It was summer again, Mikey was off to camp yet again. Gerard just tried to stay in bed as long as he could when he was gone. Looking at the walls of the house, the old wallpaper peeling in some spots. He reached a hand up to chip at the paper with his finger, making small pictures that he would end up scratching out into huge gaps in the paper.

Rolling over he looked to the other side of the room where Mikey's bed was. Made and perfect, with no one in it. Gerard frowned, looking to the clock on the wall. It was only noon. He was sure he had been there for hours already. His mother wasn't picking him up to visit until tomorrow, and he didn't even have school to go to right now, summer was in high effect and having no friends to visit was finally apparent to him.

He rolled out of bed, standing up he looked around. He needed to find something to do that did not involve leaving the room. Looking around he picked up a sketch pad, looking through his old drawings. All of revenge, and black and white drawings of what would be a red bath of suffering for his father and anyone who crossed him. He turned to a clean page, scribbling madly another blood bath in black and white. This one of a broken beer bottle and his father sitting in his chair, bleeding out. Gerard set his pencil down, looking at his drawing. Not lifelike, more like a comic, but it satisfied him.

He shut his sketchbook quickly, shoving it under his bed when he heard a knock on his door.

"Come in..." The door went form being silent and closed to opening with brute force.
"Oh thank you, your Majesty, for letting me in your room." His father was already drunk, looking at the clock again, 12:15. He sighed, saying nothing, anything he said would only piss him off.
"What are you looking at? I swear to god you need a haircut. Hair that long on a man, I swear you look like a Tranny." Gerard had heard all of this before, and he learned to shrug it off.
"Oh, nothing to say? So you ARE a little girl, I knew it Gerard. I just knew it." His father laughed at his own jokes, every time, no matter how old, he laughed like he had just told them for the first time.

His father started to turn around, stumbling to the doorway, Gerard just rolled his eyes, sighing. Quicker than Gerard could even take a breath, the stumbling man managed to zoom to him, grabbing him under his chin, snarling at him.

"What was that? I didn't quite hear you loud enough." Gerard winced at how loud he was, scrunching his nose up into the wince when his father spit on his face, throwing him back to his bed. Gerard quickly wiped his face on his pillow, smelling the beer in his spit. Gerard shrieked some as he felt his hair being pulled back, pulling him off of the bed.

"I told you, you need a hair cut, and now you scream like a little girl, It's official. He threw Gerard against the wall, shaking his head at him as his bottom lip shook.
"You are how old now?" He made it seem like he wanted to be told for effect, but he genuinely couldn't remember the ages of either of his kids.
"Seventeen." Gerard's lip still shook as he looked up to his fathers dark eyes.
"Seventeen, that's right. You need to be a man Gerard. You need to fight back. Fight me back!" Gerard looked at him as he spoke, the alcohol hitting the air, prying it's way into his nose. This was his chance, he could fight his father back?

Gerard lifted his knee up to jab his father between the legs, sending his father to a hunching position as Gerard pushed him over to the ground, running to the living room. This could be his chance to get out. He could run away and not come back. But he couldn't. He needed this, he wanted to watch his father bleed. He looked around for something to hit his father with, seeing an empty beer bottle on the ground by his chair.

He heard his father's loud drunken footsteps enter the room. He picked up the bottle, holding it out, his whole body shaking, but he stood his ground, acting as tough as he could. His father lunged at him, Gerard instinctively swinging his arm to hit his father in the head with the bottle. He watched his father stumble, putting his hand up to hold himself up on the wall. Gerard looked to his hand, the bottle wasn't broken and his father wasn't unconscious like in the movies. He was in shit for sure.

Gerard started to run to his bedroom, feeling his foot hit something, sending him to the ground face first, looking over his shoulder, his father moved his foot from where it had tripped him. His head bleeding, he grabbed Gerard by the back of his shirt, stomping him back down with a boot. Gerard could only yell as his back filled with pain. He felt his hair yet again be pulled, looking at his father. He lifted him by his hair and the back of his shirt, carrying him to the bathroom.

Screaming and kicking Gerard could not manage to clip him at all, he was too blinded by fear. His father kicked the bathroom door open, turning the light on with his elbow.

"You are going to be so sorry you little bitch." He swung Gerard up, hitting him against the mirror, sending glass across the room, cutting both Gerard and his father. Gerard looked at himself, covered in his own blood, yelling.

"Stop! Please! Stop!!" His father ignored his cries and threw him across the bathroom into the bathtub. Gerard just yelled, going silent as the wind was knocked out of him at impact with the fiberglass tub. He shut his eyes, looking up to his father, and shutting his eyes tight.

His father taking all the Peroxide, Rubbing Alcohol and anything to bandage a wound out of the bathroom, leaving Gerard in there alone.

All he could do was look up at the ceiling, and hope he bled to death. Closing his eyes, he heard his own heartbeat against his ribs, and the sound of the fan in the bathroom.